


Signed, SH

by biswholocked



Series: JWP 2015 [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Developing Relationship, Emotions, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Notes, Pre-Slash to Slash, Relationship(s), Sherlock Texting, Texting, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biswholocked/pseuds/biswholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>30 New Messages</i>, the screen reads, and John blinks in surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day twenty two of JWP. The prompt was: "While You were Out. Watson returns home after a long day to find a note pinned to his door. What is the note? Who left it? It's all up to you". Thus, this fic was born.
> 
> ETA July 26: I have been making edits to this; as of now, the section starting with "By the time..." and ending in "...battling for dominance" is the only thing that has been changed.

As the train starts to move, John pulls out his mobile and checks it. _30 New Messages_ , the screen reads, and John blinks in surprise.

_John. -SH_

_John. -SH_

_John. -SH_

_Crime scene in Islington. Come home at once. -SH_

_You have your mobile on silent, don’t you? -SH_

_John. - SH_

_This is intolerable. -SH_

_You ought to just quit the locum work, really. -SH_

_Anderson has acquired a new mistress. Donovan particularly annoying today. -SH_

_Why, I’m unsure. She should thank him. -SH_

“Oh my god,” John mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “Why do I stay with the madman?” There are still twenty unread messages and John can only imagine what havoc Sherlock has wreaked, judging from the first ten alone; John isn’t sure whether to be afraid, impressed, or amused as he continues reading.

_Lestrade’s shirt and tie are poorly ironed. Doing it himself, then, and a new key on his ring, too. -SH_

_Interesting. I wonder if they’ve filed the paperwork yet. -SH_

_Body is less intriguing when you are not here. -SH_

_Asked Lestrade what he could observe. He was not amused. -SH_

_It was the gardener. -SH_

_Stupid enough to come back after he committed a crime, and to leave his rope at the scene. Dull. -SH_

_Sitting alone in a cab is not appealing. -SH_

_John. -SH_

_Mrs H is out. She has a new beau, apparently. -SH_

_Come home. -SH_

The tube comes to a stop and as John pitches forward slightly in his seat an automated voice comes on, announcing the Baker Street stop. John stands, then shuffles out of the carriage with the other people getting off. The tube station is teeming with people getting on and off, all either coming home from a long day of work or going to start a night shift. Dodging briefcases and unobservant people on their mobiles, John makes it out of the station and hurries down the street, eager to get home and relax. (Assuming Sherlock hasn’t seen fit to throw a massive sulk. Which, John reflects, is probably a poor assumption to make.) There are only ten messages left, and John reads through them quickly while waiting for a light to change.

_Bored. -SH_

_John. -SH_

_Would you consider engaging in bondage with a sexual partner? Related to the case. -SH_

_Yes, I would think. Though you’d be more likely to say yes to a male than a female. -SH_

_Would you say yes to me? -SH_

_Don’t read the message prior to this one. -SH_

_You’ve read it already, haven’t you? Well, then. -SH_

_I do think about it, you know. Sex, with you. Romance, with you. -SH_

_It’s ridiculous and irrational. Sentimental. -SH_

_And yet. -SH_

By the time the light turns and he is swept along with the mass of pedestrians crossing, John’s heart has increased its tempo and found a way to lodge itself in his throat. His legs are functioning on autopilot, now, carrying him down Baker Street and towards 221, while John tries to sort out the storm of thoughts in his head.

A relationship. With Sherlock. John tries to picture Sherlock on a date, remembering their anniversary, doing things like buying John gifts, kissing him good morning. The mental image comes out blurred, wrong; John shakes his head. Impossible, he decides. Sherlock is...well. _Sherlock_. Sherlock ruins John’s clothes for his experiments, and only buys him new ones if John kidnaps the violin. Sherlock yells at the telly, ridicules John’s taste in films and books, then leaves recent medical journals around the flat in conspicuous places. Sherlock stores heads in the fridge (more than just the once, too, no matter what he says).

And yet.

The door to 221 is in front of him, now, and John pauses.

And yet.

_It’s ridiculous and irrational._

_Could be dangerous._

_And yet._

Shaking his head, John opens the door and heads up the stairs with anticipation and trepidation battling for dominance.

There’s a note taped to the door of their flat. Slowly, John reaches out to peel it from the wood and brings it close enough to read the scrawled writing.

_I have taken it upon myself to do some research, and have learned that the best course of action in a scenario such as this it is best to give a person options. By this time you have, of course, read my texts, and I have heard your tread upon the stair come to a stop in front of the door. You are wondering if I am being genuine; I can assure you that I am. You are worried about what will become of our friendship, and I tell you now I shall not allow it to suffer, regardless of the results of this experiment, should you go through with it._

_If you do not desire to, continue up the stairs to your own room, and it will never be mentioned again. We shall continue on as usual._

_Otherwise, come in._

_-SH_

John stares at the note, reads it again, and then a third time, just to be sure he is not misunderstanding Sherlock’s words. When he is finished, he folds the note and puts in his pocket, then takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose.

He opens the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I have written a second part!
> 
> This was written in one day (much like the first part), so pardon any typos.

Sherlock watches John walk down the street and stop in front of their door. (Two second pause before he opens the door. No oscillation.) John disappears inside, but Sherlock maintains his position at the window, hands clasped behind his back, listening carefully.

Even tread upon the stairs, moderate speed, does not avoid the squeak of the eighth step. So, confident(?). Last three stairs taken at a quicker pace (eager?) onetwo steps to the door, long stretch of silence. (Multiple readings, perhaps. Coming to terms.) Sherlock stares outside blankly, breath quick. (Check of self reveals higher-than-average heartbeat, sweaty palms, tight feeling in stomach. “ _Butterflies_ ”.) He forces himself to breathe deeply, exhale slowly. _Whatever the outcome, you must--_

The doorknob turns, a soft rattle that is inexplicably loud; Sherlock stands taller, waits. There is a slight reflection in the window, enough to see the door swing open and John step inside, gaze searching until it lands on him. _Battle armour_ , Sherlock reminds himself, and turns.

John licks his lips, looks down then back again. Sherlock can see his fingers twitch (wants to clench; emotional stakes high, nervous). Sherlock stares impassively, certain he’s terribly transparent, and the silence grows.

“Well-”

“John-”

Sherlock blinks; John smiles, briefly, then takes a step forward, and another, and another, until Sherlock blinks again and John is in front of him, chin tilted up. His hands are calm at his sides.

Sherlock clears his throat. “John, I…” he begins, then frowns. “Are you….?”

“Yes,” John answers, gaze unflinching. (And oh, those eyes. Surprisingly deep, Sherlock has found, and the sort of blue that...well. A _John_ sort of blue.) “Yes, of course,” John says, and the words are quiet but they’re all Sherlock can hear.

Sherlock angles closer, until he feels himself go crosseyed to keep looking; John blinks, and the curve of his eyelashes monopolizes Sherlock’s attention for a moment. ( _John_ holds Sherlock’s attention, in a way he never expects.)

John brushes his nose against Sherlock’s and Sherlock can feel John’s breath drifting across his lips. “Are _you?_ ”

John whispers Sherlock’s own question back to him, barely making sound. For less than a second their lips touch as John forms the words and Sherlock is lit, a fire of longing that travels through to his fingers that clench tightly behind his back.

“Yes,” he murmurs in reply, and leans forward.

John’s lips are warm. Chapped (from the wind, likely, need to pick up chapstick from the shops). For long seconds that is all (that is _everything_ ); the press of their lips together, small movements, until John pulls gently on Sherlock’s bottom lip, mouth opening, and he is _gone_. John’s tongue, agile and daring, flicks at the top of Sherlock’s mouth, briefly makes contact with his own before darting back, making Sherlock take pursuit. John’s tongue dances with his own, and Sherlock tastes the leftover Indian takeaway John had for lunch and the tea he had at the end of his shift, the unique flavor of his mouth. A soft sound gets caught in Sherlock’s throat. One of John’s hands comes up to tangle in his hair, pull them closer; the other lands on Sherlock’s chest, heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers. Slowly, Sherlock’s own hands rise up, hovering, until they move to cradle John’s face and trace the laughter lines at the edge of his eyelids and smooth against his brow and down to his cheekbone.

It’s intoxicating. Every observation, every deduction, all of it is _JohnJohnJohn_ and Sherlock drowns himself in it until John pulls away for air.

Sherlock presses their foreheads together, and John’s fingers momentarily tighten their grip in Sherlock’s curls.

_This. This, and us._

“Again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/ con crit always welcome! Thank you to everyone who left kudos/ commented on the first part and encouraged me to continue this piece. You all are wonderful, and I hope you liked this part, too :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/ con crit always welcome! May or may not do a sequel/ companion piece to this one, depending on the prompts over the next couple days.
> 
> ETA July 26: Thank you all for the wonderful comments and encouragement! I have decided to try and do a sequel/ companion piece to this, and will add it as a new chapter to this work if/when it is finished :)


End file.
